The Stars Have Crossed
by Lina Cross
Summary: Welcome to the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games! This year, we have two sets of star-crossed lovers, including the lovely Katniss and valiant Peeta! Our newest members are Iris Delani from 1 and Lance Anstrade from 7! May the odds be ever in you favor!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy. Suzanne Collins does.

Let me know how you guys like this. I'm not sure if I want to continue, it was just something on my mind.

**. . .**

My name is Iris Delani. My name means "rainbow" in the ancient language of Greek. Obviously, I am from District 1.

I won the Hunger Games three years ago, but only because I got lucky. I won't revisit those memories on purpose, so I refuse to give you details. But you will see how I fare in the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games, because this is the Quarter Quell.

The Hunger Games, you see, are a punishment for the districts rebelling against the Capital during the Dark Days. No one blames them, since the Capital is filled with... well, you'll find out soon enough. Anyway, every year, two people between the ages of twelve and eighteen are chosen at random from each district to participate in the Games. The point is to be the last one standing at all costs. Yes, that means we all kill each other. No, it's not fake. It's very, very real. And it's been made into something to be celebrated. To party over the deaths of our children. Yes. Twenty-three children die every year because they kill each other to survive.

I've already done it once, and I thought it was over. But every twenty-five years, there's a twist that happens, something even more hellish. Last time, there were twice as many tributes (which are the children sent for slaughter). This time, the tributes were chosen from those who had already won the Games.

It was supposed to be over. We were all supposed to live out the rest of our lives without having to endure the Games again. But President Snow is the spawn of Satan himself and doesn't care about those left to die. He only cares about discipline and his own entertainment. So here I am, on the train going back to a place I swore I'd never see again, going to my death.

**Katniss' POV**

Peeta and I sit next to each other, watching the recap of the reaping. One of the tributes is Johanna Mason, the girl from District 7 who'd pretended to be weak before she killed the rest of the kids. Another is Finnick Odair, a handsome man from District 4. The girl from District 1 surprises me, though. She doesn't look well fed and rich like the others from her district. Sure, she wears fashionable clothes, and her hair is nice and glossy, but she lacks the shape and weight of the District 1 tributes I normally see. Another thing she lacks is the vigor and pride of someone chosen. Her area is normally one with Careers, or tributes who train for the Hunger Games. But her eyes only show fear and resentment, an expression that is echoed on many other faces throughout the reaping. She isn't proud, like her male counterpart. She's disgusted.

"Iris doesn't look happy." Peeta comments.

"Hm. What?" I ask distractedly. "Who's Iris?"

"District One girl." he answers. "They just said her name. She looks like she'd rather be anywhere else."

"Who can blame her?" I ask, sighing a little.

He shrugs. "I'm just saying, it might give us a leg up in the arena."

I choose not to look at him. By saying "us" I know he means me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Iris' POV**

I stride into the Remake Center. I shiver to think what my costume might be, and I'm glad I have a plan this time. Last time I was here, they had me wearing a bejeweled bra and tasseled skirt. Basically, I was a hooker. But I have designs for these opening ceremonies so I won't be half naked. And my stylists _will_ listen to me. I've killed. They know that. They will not contradict me.

"Iris!" squeals Loni, a spindly woman on my prep team. "Look at you! You're so thin!"

"I know." I say as she takes my hands in hers. "I've been trying to help the others who don't have enough."

"Oh, aren't you just the sweetest thing?" Hark says, looking at me with tears in his heavily made-up eyes.

"I could just eat you up!" says Lissa. "But we need to beautify you, sweetie, so why don't you come this way, that's it."

Within a few hours, I'm stripped of every blemish and imperfection on my body. I stand in the middle of the room as they look at me, seeing if they can do any last-minute adjustments.

"Honey, you're still as perfect as ever." says Hark, kissing my cheek.

"Oh, oops, we almost forgot." Lissa giggles. "You have a new stylist this year!"

That gets my attention. "Who?"

"I think he's Cinna's cousin or something." says Loni. "I'm not sure, but I've heard he's brilliant."

Cinna's cousin. Cinna is the District 12 stylist for Katniss Everdeen. _He_ is brilliant. This gives me no indication of what his cousin will be like.

The prep team is asked to leave the room, and a man walks in who almost floors me. He's wearing dark clothes, as the stylist before him did, but he wears no make-up and has no physical alterations that I can see. His shaggy, black hair hangs in his blue eyes in a very alluring fashion. A single hoop earring adorns his left ear.

"Hello, Iris." he says quietly with a smile. "I'm Petra. Your stylist."

_Well, I certainly would not have guessed that_, I think sarcastically. "What are you going to put on me?" I ask suspiciously.

He considers me a moment. "Are you afraid of me?" he asks.

"I'm afraid of what you might make me wear." I tell him.

He nods. "Understandable. I hated that year, too."

I'm not surprised. Everyone hated that year. "I have a few designs in case I don't like what you have."

"Let's see them."

This does surprise me. I didn't expect him to give me a chance, much less go with it right away. "They're in my bag." I tell him. I'd done the drawings on the train, then used one of the bags from the closet to store them. I'm no artist, but I happen to like what I drew. "Here," I say, handing him the papers.

He takes a quick look at each paper, then nods. "Sit with me, Iris." he says, still looking at the drawings. I follow him to the couch and sit down. After a while of silence, he speaks again. "I like these."

"You do?" I ask incredulously.

He nods. "Yes, very much. I like this one the best." He slides a paper across the table, and I see it's the brown outfit with the jeweled sash. "I think we'll do this one."

"But what did you have?" I ask, suddenly curious. How could something I drew be better than what he did?

He simply pulls out another paper and hands it to me. The outfit is simple, like mine. But his is a dress with jewels sewn into the neckline and around the bottom. Up in the corner is the word _lights_. "What does this mean?" I ask.

"I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to incorporate a bit of my own style into your outfit." he says, leaving me to my own devices and taking the two drawings with him.

**. . .**

Two hours later, I have my eyes closed and am about to reveal to myself the fruits of Petra's and my ingenuity. Somehow, he managed to combine our designs and now I get to see what it looks like.

"Okay, you're ready." says Petra as something moderately heavy is set on my head. I open my eyes and stare, astounded.

Shiny diamonds refract light. Petra has strategically placed tiny lights within my costume to make the jewels shine like stars.

My entire outfit is this: a gray-blue, soft shirt that mimics the sky just after it rains. I wear green leggings the color of wet grass, and golden sandals upon my feet. The most interesting parts are the sash, the gloves that go from my wrists to my elbows and have no fingers, and the head dress. The sash is white and has multicolored jewels sewn in at seemingly random places, and the same for the gloves and head dress, except the latter is gold, like a tiara. But the jewels are not at random, as when the lights are turned on, the effect is that I am a living rainbow.

As for my hair, it has been left to cascade down my back in gentle, romantic waves, with a few colorful ribbons threading through it. My make-up is sparkly and makes my face look full and angelic.

"Iris is ancient Greek for rainbow, did you know?" Petra asks quietly.

I find myself nodding, stunned into silence by my visage. This is far better than being a stripper three years ago.

"He will love you."

I stare at him, his last four words knocking me out of my trance. He's new. And even if he wasn't, he still couldn't know. Do cameras follow me absolutely _everywhere_? "I don't know what you're talking about." I say.

He looks at me with slight pity in his eyes. "He'll hold this image close while he tries to save you in the arena."

No. I refuse to believe this. He is mistaken.

"Maybe I misspoke." he continues, but it's obvious he knows he didn't. "I'm sorry. Time for you to go out there."

Indeed it is. I am lead into the giant stables, then I mount the chariot next to the male tribute from District 1, Gloss (yes, most of the District 1 names disgust even me). I do not know him well, but I know enough about him to infer that he will probably be beating me in the arena. For now, he is a perfect gentleman, telling me how glamorous I look in my costume. I don't like this. I don't want to be glamorous. I want to be a beautiful rainbow.

"Hello."

I look down, then hop off the chariot. "You're Peeta." I say. It's not a question.

He smiles a little. "And you're Iris, right?"

I nod. "I see you pay attention."

He nods back. "And you look very colorful."

I assess his costume. "You look... like a lump of coal." I say honestly.

He laughs, a nice sound. "Well, it's kind of a surprise, so you'll be seeing it when we come out."

I shrug, giving a false grin. There's no point in _looking_ like you want to run and hide. "I have lights under my gems. Sorry, but I can't keep a secret."

"That sounds cool. Can I see?" he asks.

I give a false laugh. "I'm first out, so you'll be able to see it soon anyway."

"Peeta, who's this?" asks a girl, walking up to us. She's dressed just like Peeta. Katniss Everdeen. The girl on fire.

"Iris." he answers. "Iris Delani. District One."

She nods, not even trying to hide her distaste. I don't blame her. A boy from my district, Marvel, had set out to brutally kill her in the last Games. She probably thinks I'll do the same. And who knows? Maybe I will.

"So... this must suck for you guys, right?" I ask.

"What?" she asks.

"Sweetie, she means that... she's talking about the Games." Peeta says gently, seeming to be less willing to smile than he was a moment ago.

Her face darkens. "Right. I get it."

I look at her with genuine sadness. "I'm sorry. I know how it feels."

At this, he looks up at me, surprised. "What?"

I shrug. "It's another story for another time. I have to get ready to go out. I hope you two get lucky like last time."

As I mount the carriage, I hear Katniss murmur, "She's more fake than the jewels on her belt."

Good criticism, but the fact that my jewels are real gives her insult no ground.

The music starts blasting all over the City Circle, and the crowd is cheering, waiting for the first chariot to ride out.

"Here we go." I murmur.

Gloss looks over at me and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before quickly letting go. The chariot moves forward, and I am taken out of the cover of darkness and into the not-as-dark evening of the outside world. As instructed by Petra, I wait until I am about twenty meters away from the stables before hitting the button on my glove that turns the lights on.

Getting power to my costume takes more time than I thought it would, but the effect is even better. I realize that if the lights had turned right on, some of the dazzle would have been lost due to being blinded. As it is, the gems start as a glow, getting brighter and brighter, as an actual rainbow does, and I hear several gasps from the crowd as they realize my outfit is changing. I lift my head and smile a little, showing that I am ready and not afraid. I catch sight of myself on the big screen and can't help but suck in a breath. In the darkening twilight, I look like a promise from heaven.

I look back to see the District 7 chariot emerge from the stables, its occupants dressed as trees. I have to choke back a laugh. He looks ridiculous in leaves, but, wonder of wonders, he seems to be enjoying the fact that he looks like an idiot. He always did take odd views on life.

Then he sees me, and his face lights up brighter than my jewels. He smiles and waves. I give a tiny wave back, then turn back to the front. My elation had slowly been disappearing with every shake of his branches. I try to continue looking happy, and I glance back at the screen to cheer myself up with my visage.

What I see is not me, but the two tributes from District 12, Katniss and Peeta. He wasn't kidding when he said his was a surprise. They're like live embers, stealing the audience's attention away from everyone else.

I am sorry to say that I feel severely put-out at this. Just once, I wanted to be that girl that everyone thought was beautiful. I wanted to be the remembered one, with the beautiful soul to match her face. I wanted to be the Cinderella at the ball. But Cinderella's beauty was always lost in the ashes of someone else' fire. How stupid I was to think I looked like a rainbow. Rainbows don't get covered in coal dust, and yet here I am.

The ceremonies are just like the ones I participated in three years ago, and I basically ignore it so I can study District 12's costumes. I have to admit, they look positively striking, and the heated glow from the unitards continues to move just like a real ember. This makes me angry. Being shiny and brilliant always pales in comparison to the girl on fire. I've never gotten what I wanted. Katniss has stolen my chance at remembrance, just like my stylist stole it from me three years ago. I have to do everything myself, and I hate it.

**Katniss' POV**

I look around at the others' costumes. How sad that they all tried to copy our fire from last year. How could anyone steal Cinna's brilliance? And why do the cows of District 8 have flaming belts? Are they broiling themselves? At least District 1 makes sense – oh, wow. They have nothing to do with fire. I suck in a breath as I realize one among the other twenty-two is equal to Peeta and I. Obviously, Iris' stylist and the male tribute's are not as one, as Porscha and Cinna are. They don't look the same at all, but they both have lights. Even then, Iris looks far more ravishing, as her lights are placed so that one assumes she is an actual rainbow.

I hear Peeta gasp next to me. "She told me that she had lights, but..."

I shrug. "They're still training the camera on us." I point out.

"I think now it's less because of our brilliant costumes as because we're once again star-crossed lovers." he says. "And besides, now we're sharing the air-time."

I purse my lips. Can no one simply appreciate us for being victors?


End file.
